hardly a hero
by paper piper
Summary: kenshin was a wanderer, that is all. -ken/tomoe


A songfic featuring Levi Kreis' "Hardly a Hero." I absolutely fell in love with his music recently, and I think this fits so well the TomoexKenshin story. Enjoy, and read and review :D

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Levi Kreis, or Kenshin Himura.

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**Hardly A Hero**

_Just an ordinary man_

_Thrown into a life I didn't plan_

A young man with broken sandals shuffled his dirty feet along the road. Few people passed him; he was far out into the wilderness of Japan. He was, for the most part, unremarkable. He wore a faded magenta gi and hakama. But the stranger's hair was a screeching red, long and pulled back into a low ponytail; a sword hung arrogantly at his hip; and a fresh cross-shaped scar marred his left cheek.

He was still a teenager, a child.

_Suddenly my world has changed_

_I'm unprepared to make my way_

Kenshin kept his head low, wouldn't allow anyone to catch his disturbingly bright eyes, eyes still wide with horrors witnessed by the young. Had someone noticed his gold-flecked stare, he would be unforgettable. Just the opposite of his goal.

_My resolve is growing weak_

_So unsure of who I'm supposed to be_

He had been on the road for a week now, and he knew he would be on the road for many weeks ahead. Behind him was fire, death, screams, and a snow-covered night with a woman. He slept on the ground, out under the stars, like a pauper, though he had served princes.

_The one who takes the noble path_

_Or the one who wants what he can never have_

She had said he "made the sky rain blood." As he stretched out on his bedroll nights, he wondered if he was still the person who inspired such words, or if he could ever shake off such an identity. He had abandoned the name "Battousai," but would the killer within die as easily as the name?

_And I'm hardly the hero_

_This is the only thing I know to do_

_To make it through_

He never believed himself to be special. How could anyone think themselves so, with a childhood of forced slavery, harsh training, and an adolescence of blood? The only light in his world was her, and she was gone. He could still feel her life leaking through his fingers, to drip onto snow purer than his soul could ever be again.

_But I need you to believe_

_That beneath this bravado_

_I'd still give anything to have a chance_

_To get you back_

_And I'm hardly a hero for that_

Tomoe: the name was synonymous with wife.

He avoided women. He could not look into a female face, no matter how different she may be, and not see his wife. He prayed to her under his breath as he walked under the sun. He dreamed of her plum smell; the dark, mysterious eyes; the small, serene mouth; and most of all, her _skin_.

_Exuberant and terrified_

_Every time I look into your eyes_

He had felt his youth every time he touched her. He was shaking, nervous, but she was calm, gentle. Tomoe was always silent in his memories—aside from those words, "rain with blood"—but she was those two pale arms reaching around his teen body to comfort him. He wanted to run his hands over that smooth, firm, living whiteness and revere the woman trapped inside it. Kenshin's memories of her skin would be the most poignant from the days long past.

_But I can't entertain the thought_

_'Cause we both know I'm not the man you thought I was_

It made it so much worse than he, with his own eager hands, had shredded that beautiful skin to shreds.

Still, though she had had the chance to curse him, spit at him, cry in his arms as he watched her die, she did none of these things. Tomoe only looked up at him as if he was the last angel in Heaven, and tore out a single feather from his wing.

_And I'm hardly the hero_

_This is the only thing I know to do_

_To make it through_

His hand always strayed to that cross-shaped scar; it was so new that it itched, it tore at the edges, and new blood inched out. He never complained.

He never complained when the sun burned the back of his neck.

He never complained when he went days without eating a meal, and his stomach raged at his stupidity.

He never complained when bugs and animals crept into his clothes as he slept, alone, in the forest.

He never complained when strangers passed him with a look of alarm and even disgust.

_But I need you to believe_

_That beneath this bravado_

_I'd still give anything to have a chance_

_To get you back_

_And I'm hardly a hero for that_

Kenshin met good people, of course. He met several of the elderly, couples who had been together since they were his age and younger, and would die side by side, as lovers should. But jealousy never overtook him, as it might a less-guilt ridden man. He merely smiled at the beauty of it all and dismissed it, believing it never to be a gift for him.

Tomoe was always in the back of his mind; could there be another woman for him, anyway?

_The ones I love will always be_

_The ones who pay the price_

Of course there wouldn't be another, there shouldn't. Those who ventured into his circle were slaughtered, without mercy. Not only Tomoe, but the sisters who had cared for him as a child—murdered, trying to protect him from bandits. Women in his mind were fragile, someone to be protected from the world of men, especially him.

He would never forget the night he had killed a man by pure accident. In those days, Kenshin slept with his katana leaning against his shoulder in case of attack. It was a cool night that night, winter was approaching, and a kind man had stopped to drape his jacket over the red-haired child he saw asleep in the streets. That child awoke, startled, and with a couple simple slashes, the kindness was gone.

Everyone—they all crumbled in the face of danger, became mere sad memories for nighttime; only the cruelty remained.

_And so I set aside my dreams_

_To do the thing that's right_

_And keep it all inside_

A rurouni—yes, that was what he would be. Kenshin looked around the world and knew there was no salvation for his own soul, for Tomoe's, nor for the sisters. The decision to self-denial was an easy one for him; he had never had much to begin with. He saw only whiteness around him, whiteness he could not taint with more blood, and he vowed never to kill again.

_And I'm hardly the hero_

_This is the only thing I know to do_

_To make it through_

Ten years. Ten years of wandering; sleeping under bridges; getting caught in the rain; meeting men, women, children in need; of being spat on by others; of using his body to protect another. Kenshin grew older; the baby roundness fell from his face, and the yellow torture melted from his eyes into a friendly violet. A hardness inside him fell away, a vacuum was left in his heart.

One day, he decided to go to Tokyo.

_But I need you to believe_

_That beneath this bravado_

_I'd still give anything to have a chance_

_To love again_

_And I'm hardly the hero for that_

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Okay, so how was it? I'm not usually a Tomoe fan, but I think the relationship is interesting. I genuinely think KenKao is THE correct pairing. And then it's SanoxMegumi and AoshixMisao. TsubamexYahiko are adorable too. Maybe I'll do something with them someday?

R&R! :D


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